


Love in the Strangest Places

by navaan



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Canon Divergence, Community: scifibigbang, Developing Relationship, Episode: s03e13 Last of the Time Lords, M/M, Recovery, Relationship(s), Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 04:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2215029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the Master who makes Jack realize what a Time Lord really sees when he looks at a fact, so he abandons all the foolish hopes of ever travelling with the Doctor again. Strangely the Doctor seems to be more comfortable around him after the Year that never was than before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in the Strangest Places

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Science Fiction and Fantasy Big Bang 2014.
> 
> You can also read this story [at LiveJournal](http://navaan.livejournal.com/151549.html).

In the beginning of their imprisonment the Master made sure to kill Jack multiple times a day in front of a horrified and sickened Doctor. But after a while the Doctor - now trapped in an old and frail body - stopped reacting to the display altogether and instead retreated completely into himself. 

Just as he was doing today. 

Jack, who couldn't do anything to stop the Master, was thankful for it. It was hard enough to be propped up in the middle of a room that had once been a conference room and now was a mad man's playground and remember that once the world had been a saner place.

Maybe it was selfish to even think it, but it was easier for him to take this when the Doctor wasn't reacting to his torture, to his continuously orchestrated deaths - and to his coming back to life; like now when the Doctor wasn’t even looking at Jack, who was lying, twitching, on the floor, in a puddle of his own blood, gasping, coming back to life with a jolt. Jack, in the panic that came with reviving, was seeking the Doctor’s eyes for reassurance, but then painfully remembered that the Doctor hadn’t met anybody's eyes in days – and remembered how it was better to see nothing reflected in them than seeing horror, or even worse, disgust.

Relief flooded him, although he knew that the Master would just kill him again.

The Master nodded at the Doctor as if his favourite prisoner had made a delightful comment on Jack’s predicament. Jack couldn't even be sure if that wasn't what the Master was reacting to. The Master was so far gone that often it seemed he was hearing comments where there were none, or was at least skilfully making them up as he went along. That was something Jack could never be quite sure about. “Yes, it's especially disgusting when he comes back to life, isn't it?” their tormentor asked with a snicker. His human wife Lucy was standing at his side watching with a curious if a little sickened expression, looking as tired and overwhelmed as Jack was feeling right now. Her appearance was in disarray, had been for days, like she had more and more trouble to _care_ for her own state. 

The Master's remark wasn't meant for her or Jack though. As always it was meant for the Doctor alone. “It's sickening,” he added when the Doctor still didn’t react, but as always the Doctor said nothing in return to that either. He hadn't said anything for so long that it was becoming hard for Jack to remember his energetic, unceasingly chattering voice by now. He missed the banter, even the hurtful remarks, the way his voice could get deep and quiet just to be filled with childlike joy the next moment. 

All there was left now was this tired, sad and silent old man with only slight traces of his lanky, new Doctor in his eyes.

Jack didn't like to dwell on it, but he couldn’t quench the worry that had started to take hold of him. What if the Doctor would never come out of this state? What if the Master had damaged him beyond repair? What if all was lost already and there was really no need to hold on any more?

“You're right. Let’s put him away. Somewhere out of sight,” the Master decided, turning away with a sneer. The soldiers didn’t lose any time to follow the command before it was even made into a direct order, and Jack found himself dragged away, getting a last desperate look at the old man in his wheel chair who was starring ahead with unseeing eyes. The Master was leaning down over the Doctor’s shoulder to stage whisper: “Nobody should have to look at something so disgusting, don’t you agree, Doctor?”

* * *

The Master was keeping him chained and alone in his cell.

He had been left alone for so long by now that he nearly wished to be dragged out and killed in front of an audience again, just so he knew that some kind of world was still out there beyond this room; just for the amusing change it would make in his dull and lonely existence. He hated it; the silence, the smell of his own stink and grime, staring at the same sole wall for hours because there wasn't anything else to do.

Since he had been put in this prison the Master seemed to have forgotten all about him. Jack had no way of knowing how long it had been since he had seen his tormentor – _their_ tormentor. _I'm not really alone_ , he reminded himself, desperately trying to hold on to the thought. 

But it felt like it by now. He couldn't even really remember when he had seen anyone but Tish either, so it must have been a long time.

Martha's sisters was brave in her own right and did try to let him know what was going on outside, but their ways of undetected communication were very limited. They’d learned that the hard way. If they exchanged actual information, Tish and her family would surely be punished, while Jack was only to be ignored. But when Tish was punished, no-one came to feed him for quite some time, which had resulted in another excruciating starvation death. But that wasn't holding him back. Jack wanted Tish safe. He wanted everybody safe. He also didn't care to die from starvation again, but he'd do it if it meant everybody else was safe.

To keep their little exchanges from being detected they were using a strange form of code now and Jack wasn’t always sure he was interpreting it the right way. It was hard to learn a code, when your teacher wasn't able to explain it to you first. So for the most part he had still no idea what was going on outside of his little boring cell.

And it truly seemed like the Master had forgotten all about him. It made him fear for the Doctor even more.

* * *

The cell seemed smaller to him everyday. He was surely going crazy. Even dying would be better than this.

Jack prayed for _something_ to happen – but nothing ever did.

But then one day, when Jack was starting to lose hope that anything would come to deliver him from the boredom, the Master strode into his cell as if that was an everyday occurrence, and started talking as if they were old friends. “I really can't understand why he took you along with him. How can he stand the pain your presence causes?” He casually leaned against the wall opposite of Jack and scrunched up his nose at his dirty condition. “You stink, Jack. Not so handsome now, are you?” he asked in a deceptively friendly tone.

Jack just shrugged in answer – or at least he came close enough to shrugging with his arms still chained up and numb. A jibe like that did nothing to his ego nowadays and he let the Master know this with a smile. “Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder,” he proclaimed with an unconcerned smile, hopefully able to hide what his confinement was doing to him. He could still be vain and full of pride, even at his lowest. 

Even a crazy Time Lord couldn't take that from him.

The Master nodded, his brow furrowing. “Fair enough.” He wasn't thinking about Jack any more. Jack could see that in the far away look on his face. It was likely that he was thinking about the Doctor again. All their encounters were about the Doctor and not really about Jack at all. It made Jack bristle to think about it. If there was any possible way to do it, he would make sure that the mad man would never again get anywhere near his friend. It was frustrating to know that there wasn’t anything he could possibly do about it, though. His attention shifted back to his dangerous visitor when the man continued speaking. 

“So. He must see something in you. Something that makes him forget how disgusting you are to Time Lord senses. But aside from being a freak there is nothing remarkable about you, is there? What is it then?”

Jack performed his near shrug again, outwardly undaunted. He wasn’t going to discuss this with the Master of all people. But he couldn’t keep from provoking him. “He was your friend once, wasn't he? Then he must have seen something in you, too. But I can only see...” _A madman_. They both knew what he was about to say before the words even touched his lips. He didn't get to say it though.

Before he managed to finish his sentence the Master killed him with one flick of his screwdriver. _Laser_ , he remembered in a flash of panic, while everything happened so fast that he could barely register what was going on. For once death was quicker than his thoughts. 

Everything stopped.

When he came back to life, his murderer was casually leaning against the metal wall of his prison, right next to the door. The Master must have been holding the gadget in his hand all the time, waiting for the moment to strike from the minute he stepped through the metal door. Now his face was scrunched up in disgust again. "I've never seen anything this revolting. And I've seen a lot of gruesome things.” He smiled like remembering happier times.. “Many of those caused by myself, of course. So don't get me wrong: killing you is _brilliant_. It makes all the buzzing and queasiness you cause stop for a blessed moment. But then you _come back_ , like an explosion, making me feel worse than before. It makes me want to vomit. How can any Time Lord stay around something this disgusting by his own choosing? Was he that lonely? That desperate? Or are all his senses going mad now?” He narrowed his eyes and asked in an even more threatening tone: “Or did he keep you around because he wanted to feel _loved_ in all his loneliness? You wouldn’t be the first he kept around for a while. But you are certainly the most disgusting one. Don’t let yourself think he could ever love something like you.” He didn't wait for Jack to catch his breath and answer, but turned to leave and was out the door in a flash as if to emphasize that he couldn't bare to look at this _impossibility_.

The steps echoed down the hallway and the door fell shut with a loud bang. He could hear a key turning in an old fashioned lock.

Then the silence was back. His only constant.

Jack knew he shouldn't listen to the psychopath. What truth could spring from the mouth of a mad man? But hadn't the Doctor said the exact same thing in not so many words?

He hated to doubt himself. He hated to doubt the Doctor again even more. 

There was no reason to fool himself however. He loved the Doctor, but between being this thing he was now, and all that had happened between them - there never had been a real chance for this to work out. At least not for Jack. No happy ending for the impossible fact, the abomination.

The Doctor didn’t love him like that and now he would never see Jack as anything but an impossible, disgusting thing. How could he?

And what did it matter anyway? The Doctor didn't have to love him back for Jack to go on loving him.

* * *

When it happened, suddenly and quickly, the Master's death was both a relief and a shock. It wasn't shocking at all that the man's own wife was the unlikely killer, not to Jack who knew about people and twisted relationships, but because in the end the mad man had thrown away his life like a petulant child just to spite the Doctor. Or in spite of the Doctor’s willingness to give him another chance.

To even hear the Doctor's suggestion to keep the crazed Time Lord inside the Tardis chilled Jack to the core. With all this man had done to the world, the universe, to Martha’s family and to the Doctor himself - how could the Doctor even consider staying with him? Willingly? Surely not even the vast interior of the Tardis would have been big enough for those two.

Would that have been the final madness?

For both of them?

Nearly everyone was shocked into inaction by the Doctor’s breakdown that followed the Master's death. _Jack_ was shocked into action at least. He had never before seen the Time Lord like this, desperate and helpless and a little crazy with grief. He didn’t want to imagine what the loss of Gallifrey must have been like if this was what grief for the Master looked like.

When he looked around the room he could only see disbelief on the faces of the people around them. He could feel the anger radiating off Martha's family. There wasn't anybody here who even for a moment thought the Master would have deserved any better than this. Only the Doctor was grieving for this mass murderer.

Of course, Jack himself wasn’t feeling anything but happiness at the knowledge that finally the world had gone back to normal, that in a very important way all of this had never happened. His world was back to what it was before the Master had tried to rebuilt it in his own image. The end of days had never happened. Humanity had never been harmed. How could he not be happy now?

But the picture of the crying man who was again left behind as the last of his kind made shivers run down Jack’s spine. Since he had found himself immortal he had been the survivor more than once, and suddenly he didn’t want the Doctor to bear that burden and the survivor's guilt that went with it all over again. No-one should have to go through that. Especially not someone like the Doctor, who had lived through it before.

And he could understand that for the Doctor the Master had been more than just a mad man. They'd had history. They had even been friends once. The memory of Gallifrey and happier moments that only the two of them shared had been taken along with the mass murderer's life.

Never before had Jack seen the Doctor break down and cry. He had seen him angry, cheeky, smiling like a maniac and sometimes right down dangerous, especially that other Doctor with his mood swings and the boyish smile, childish excitement and dark, dangerous fury. Sometimes he had even seen true sadness in his eyes. But in his short time of travelling with him he had never seen him shed real tears. 

Not once.

He wondered if Rose had ever come close enough for that.

Jack longed to pry the man away from the dead body and enfold him in an embrace until this was over. Nobody should see him like this after all that he'd had to go through to save them all. 

Jack felt the smouldering, angry stares around him wearing him down and looked up to meet a pair of concerned eyes. Martha was looking at him, then at her family, then back at the Doctor. She wanted to console the Doctor as much as Jack did, but then there were her parents and her sister to consider who needed her even more than the Doctor now. She nodded at Jack before she steeped up to them, embracing her mother and pulling her away from the place of their tormentor’s death.

When no one else made a move to help the Doctor, he finally mustered up the strength to step up. “Doctor?” he whispered, carefully leaning over the man's shoulder to make himself heard, but still keeping his distance enough not to startle him. They hadn't seen each other in month and Jack knew what he looked like. He longed to touch, to make sure his friend was all right, but didn't dare to cause the other even more pain. His presence meant pain, didn't it? “Doctor?” he whispered again.

“I have to bury him,” the crying man said in a broken whisper, not sobbing anymore. He took a shaking breath, then shook his head. “No. I have to burn his body, Jack.” There was some determination beneath the sadness.

Jack gave a nod. He had no idea what Time Lords did with their dead, had done with their dead when there was still a planet full of them. There must be some rites that were lost with Gallifrey.

The Doctor was the last child of that planet left now. He had lost his own people all over again, even if this time through the death of only one single psychopath.

But Jack couldn't think about that. Not now. At this point he simply felt relieved. The Doctor was trying to pick up the pieces already. The breakdown was passing. His friend had lost the last Time Lord apart from himself and now he was already trying to go on like he always did.

The Doctor would get over this and for Jack that was all that mattered at this very moment.

So he nodded and turned around to bark out some orders, not surprised when the confused soldiers around him just fell in line, happy that someone was ready to act.

* * *

Martha wouldn't be coming along for this trip. Instead she was going to stay with her family and try to help them cope with everything that had happened. Jack and Martha hadn't found the time to talk yet. But the way Martha was holding herself was saying a lot more than words. She had grown stronger in that year she’d walked the earth. At first glance it seemed she had grown harder, but the worried looks she kept shooting in the the Doctor's direction before the Time Lord vanished into the Tardis told Jack the true story.

The compassion and love that he'd come to associate with Martha was still there underneath it all; she had simply learned how to be a survivor. A lesson Jack had learned long ago, before he had ever been immortal and a lesson that he wished Martha wouldn't have had to learn at all. 

They needed to talk. That much was clear.

He promised himself he would find the time to _really_ talk to her as soon as he and the Doctor got back.

First Jack had to deal with some of the UNIT officials and made sure everything was back to normal – or as normal as it ever got in their line of work - before he finally followed the Doctor into the familiar blue police box that was so much more. He closed the door behind him, hearing the hum of the Tardis and felt safe for the first time in a long while, but also a little sad. There was still a lot of work to be done here before the old girl would be her beautiful, unspoiled self again.

The Master had left his visible mark on all of them, but most of all her.

It seemed like the Doctor was feeling the same, staring darkly at the haphazardly patched up console, eerily still and unmoving. The Tardis gave an impatient hum that shook the Doctor out of his thoughts and prompted him back into action. The routine made Jack smile. The Doctor would take care of his Tardis, and she would take care of him in turn. Maybe things were already getting better.

He was hopping around the console, glancing at Jack for the briefest of moments. “Ready?” he asked. Jack shrugged. Because _Jack_ wasn’t the one who had to be ready for this.

They left for earth right away, the Tardis humming in a way that sounded content. Perhaps she had wanted to leave that place even more desperately than Jack had. 

Earth. It was strange to think that the Master would be put to rest on the planet he had despised so much in life.

The Doctor left to burn the Master's body without him. Jack had no desire to come along and he wasn’t at all sure the Doctor even wanted him there. It was too personal. It was a wonder the Doctor even wanted him _here_ , close by. So they agreed without exchanging any words and Jack stayed behind inside the Tardis doing some necessary repairs to the cannibalized machine. He deliberately ignored the clock, didn’t want to worry too much when the time passed and instead concentrated on working. 

When his friend finally returned, his face was grave. The Doctor didn't say a word, just looked at what he had been doing, took a short look around the console and started to work alongside him. Jack was a little surprised at the silence, but didn’t want to ruin the moment by commenting on it. They both needed the distraction work was providing them.

For a fleeting moment Jack wondered how much pain their closeness must cause the Doctor. It was so easy to forget how uncomfortable his presence had to be for him. It was a selfish forgetfulness, because Jack would love to stay near the Doctor for as long as possible, before he lost him forever.

They worked like this for hours until Jack nearly fell asleep while trying to repair a temporal damper. The Doctor gave him a critical look and beckoned him to come along. By now the silence was grating on Jack’s nerves a little. Long periods of silence were not something that he had ever thought of when thinking of the Doctor. There had been quiet moments and brooding, but never for long, never when he noticed someone around to see him. 

Together they walked along the winding Tardis corridors that looked so much like Jack remembered them, clean and bright and never ending. He wasn’t really taking notice of their direction. Although he had come to know his way around the labyrinth of Tardis corridors once a long time ago, it was still easy to get lost. And things had a way of _changing_ very often around here. 

He was more than a little shocked when they ended up in his old room. It was unchanged. There was even a discarded shirt hanging from the back of a chair. Exactly as he had left it so many, many years ago, not knowing that he wouldn’t be back for it.

“You didn't...” Words were failing him. He stepped into the room, looking at everything he had left behind as if he was seeing it for the first time.

“I never do,” the Doctor cut him off. “I like to think that everyone can come back one day. Even if they can't.” He stopped speaking, obviously lost in thought again. Then he swallowed and muttered: “I'm sorry.”

“What are you sorry for exactly?” Jack looked at him, at the way he was standing inside the door, watching him rediscovering his own belongings. There was a sadness about him, a mournful unhappiness that was old and ran deep. He shouldn't have asked, Jack thought. He was causing pain again.

The Doctor visibly struggled with the answer, nervously gesturing with his hands to make Jack understand. “Leaving you behind then, leaving you to your fate for this whole year. I'm sorry for everything. So very sorry.” Jack sat down on the comfortable bed, testing the texture of the mattress, taken aback , relieved and confused all at once by the unexpected apology. He was not sure he wanted to hear this now. He remembered feeling very angry, furious and sad – so long ago. Being left behind all alone on a space station by people he loved and respected and without a word or sign why he had been left to fend for himself. He had kept the grudge for some years, but had never been able to believe they had known he was still alive. After all he hadn't know that he couldn't die right away either, so how could _they_ have known? It felt like a lifetime ago now. He remembered meeting the Doctor again a year ago all to well though: being called wrong, discovering he'd known all along. Thinking about it was exhausting and still stung more than he'd ever dare to admit.

The Doctor looked at him very intently, probably waiting for a sign that Jack understood and he could finally leave so they both could get some rest. He looked drained, exhausted and a little pale, too. Much like Jack was feeling, actually. It was likely that he was aching to get away and deal with his own issues, because even the Doctor he'd once known had been a very private being when it came down to his own tragedies. Jack decided to give him the easy way out. “You haven't caused any of this. There is nothing you should be sorry for.” He tried to muster up a smile an just knew it was looking as tired as he felt it did.

“Shouldn't I?” the Doctor asked quietly.

He shouldn't. But Jack wasn't quite sure how to convey that. At the moment he felt far too tired and worried enough not to trust his own thoughts and impulses. This was always a bad sign. If he couldn’t trust himself, who could he trust then?

Since everything had gone back to the point before the Master’s reign he should make sure his friends at Torchwood were okay. After all he’d had one whole year to think about how he had left them and why. And he of all people should have known better: You should never abandon friends, partners, team mates; not without a word. Never. Not even for the right kind of doctor. Not while they felt guilty for nearly destroying the planet. Not when they felt guilty over what had happened to you. Not _ever_ without a word.

This conclusion was leading him to the one possible course of action. He would go back. Torchwood was where he should be. He was making a difference there. And he wasn't hurting anyone there by his presence alone, but through his absence.

Here he was only hurting the Doctor by breathing, be existing, by reminding him.

He let himself fall backwards onto the bed and closed his eyes. “I guess, you didn't bring me here to wallow in memories? So I'm going to rest and then we can take on the repairs one step at a time,” he said, rubbing at his closed eyelids with the back of his hand, making his plans for the immediate future.

The answering silence made him think the Doctor had left already, so he dragged himself further up the bed to settle down more comfortably on his side to finally sleep and get some rest. Then a weight settled down beside him. When he opened his eyes the Doctor was lying down on the mattress beside him. His friend looked as tired as he himself felt. And Jack noted, he hadn't even discarded his coat, just sprawled down on his back, seemingly too tired to care.

Slightly horrified he realized what this meant. The Doctor was lying in his bed! That was not at all how he had pictured this particular situation. His eyes wandered to the coat. No, not at all like he had pictured it. Usually there weren't a many clothes involved when he thought of this. “Doc?”

The man sighed tiredly and didn't look at him. His eyes remained closed. “Yes?”

“You're staying?”

One eye was pried open to peer at him. “Yes.”

“Why?” he asked and wasn’t sure why he had to question this. He was a little surprised when the Doctor turned to face him, lying on his side.

For a moment they were lying there facing each other, the Doctor searching his face. “Don't you want me here?” he asked after a moment of silent scrutiny.

What kind of strange question was this? “My presence is hurting you,” he blurted out before he had time to think of something more coherent - or naughty – to hide his confusion. His eyes wandered to the Doctor’s tie and along the collar of his shirt and back to the coat. He made a mental note to never forget how sexy a completely clad Doctor could be when he was lying down.

The Doctor looked at him seriously though. “I've felt your presence for that whole year. I couldn't see you. I didn't know where you were exactly but I could always feel that impossible thing that is you. I wanted to see you then to be sure you were okay. Why should I want to leave now?” There was a slight edge to the voice, something that was close to the desperation he'd heard in it just today, but Jack dismissed it as exhaustion, didn't allow himself to dwell on it.

He tried to put his thoughts in order. He was thinking about the Master's hateful words and also clearly remembered the Doctor's own explanation of what he felt when he was around Jack. “You shouldn't be hurting. You said I feel wrong. That everything inside you wanted to get away from me.”

The Doctor's eyes were gradually dropping closed again. “Jack,” he said tiredly. “Really. I am knackered and sure as hell don't feel like running from anything at the moment. Not even from my stupid prejudices. You're something I'm not used to. I can work through it.” His eyes closed and for a moment Jack wasn't sure if he was still awake. Were Time Lords able to just fall asleep like that? Had he ever seen the Doctor sleep at all?

He honestly couldn’t remember one single occasion. Even when they had been travelling together, he had never seen the Doctor sleep.

He didn’t always sleep in his clothes, did he? In his own state of exhaustion he nearly asked the question, but the accompanying mental images of a Doctor in any kind of sleep wear – or our of them – made him stop. If this question slipped out and he didn’t get an answer, he’d ask him how he felt about sleeping in the nude next... And he was simply too tired to go down that road just now.

With a soft sigh he made himself comfortable again and let his own eyes fall shut. Then he remembered he could be hurting the Doctor and peered at the man through half lidded eyes. He didn’t look uncomfortable. “You'll tell me if...” he started to whisper, not sure if the Doctor would still hear him.

The brown eyes flew open again, awake and ready to jump. Jack was sure he was going to leave now. Instead he was subjected to a scrutinizing look. When he seemed satisfied the Doctor said: “I think _you_ are in need of company, Jack. _This_ is not like the Jack I know.”

He desperately wanted to point out that this wasn't like the Doctor either.

But they were both aware of that, weren't they?

He shouldn't argue against this. This was what he wanted after all. The Doctor’s company. Knowing that they were both safe.

Was it what he wanted?

He wasn't sure any more.

But Jack nodded. It was not like him to refuse company – and especially not in his bed. Or at least it wasn't at all like the Jack the Doctor had once known. The years on earth had changed him. The year of imprisonment had done the rest.

Maybe he needed to find himself again.

And he'd already made a very important decision: He had to go back to Torchwood. His team needed him. Torchwood needed him. And maybe he needed his team even more. 

Something like this should have been prevented by Torchwood. That was exactly the purpose of the organization. If he'd stayed on earth in the first place, could he have prevented all this from ever happening? Could he have spared the Doctor all this pain? The pain of being held prisoner by the Master? The pain of having to be near himself? He couldn't decide which is worse.

Where would the world be now if they hadn't managed to reverse all this?

“Let’s just sleep, okay?” Jack finally said to get the Doctor to stop staring at him. It was making him dizzy and uncomfortable on top of everything else and they both should be getting some rest.

The Doctor made a quiet noise of agreement, let himself fall back against the pillow and closed his eyes. His brow was still a little furrowed and exhaustion was written all over his face, even more obvious now that he was relaxing slightly. His breath was evening out. Maybe he was already asleep. Jack wanted to run his fingers through his tousled hair but didn’t dare wake him again.

It was hypnotizing to watch the man like this: Peaceful and relaxed for once.

But this was all like a strange dream. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him.

His own exhaustion didn’t allow him to agonize over his confusion as own eyes finally drop closed of their own accord.

* * *

When he woke up, he felt considerably better. The Doctor was nowhere in sight, but his side of the bed was still warm.

After a good night’s sleep Jack felt rested and more confident. And the Doctor had spent some time with him willingly, without scrunching up his nose or fleeing unbearable pain. Maybe the Master had been lying, maybe he hadn’t. Maybe it didn’t matter at all, because he and the Doctor were working out a way to keep their friendship despite everything.

At the moment it didn't matter. There was too much to do.

He stepped out of his room and found Martha in the console room. “Hey!” she called out to him. “Had a good rest?”

He felt a pang of guilt at leaving her to deal with everything on her own. But she waved away his apology. “You haven't been gone more than a few minutes. The Doctor can be a very effective time traveller if he really puts his mind to it.” She smiled again. It was dazzling in its beauty.

Her happiness was infectious and he smiled back. “Where is the elusive driver then?”

“Oh, he said he'd have a look at the Valiant's systems and then wants to get rid of the Archangel network. He's been busy. You know him.” She looked at the controls again and then turned to look right at him, searching. He really wanted to kiss her. This brave, beautiful, young woman who had saved them all. 

But he was surprised again when Martha stepped towards him and kissed him instead; not insecure and tentative, but confident and in control. “Thank you,” she said simply, when she broke the kiss and stepped away again.

“Am I that good?”

She laughed and playfully hit him against the shoulder. “Not because of that!” It took a while before she finally stopped laughing and clarified: “I wanted to thank you because you stayed with him. You could have left with me, but this way I knew he wasn't really alone through all of it. And you went with him to dispose...,” she couldn't get herself to say the things that were bottled up inside of her. So she started again: “I didn't want him to bury him alone, you know? But then there were my parents. And I just knew that you'd be there for him and it would be okay.” She smiled softly.

Jack wasn’t sure if he was following her reasoning but her smile warmed his heart. “You are thanking me for staying after the hell of a year you must have had? You saved the world, Martha Jones!” He couldn't keep from chuckling. This was just too surreal.

But Martha wasn't in the mood for joking. She gave him an amused but tolerant look and with a start he realized how much she had truly matured during her ordeal. He couldn't begin to imagine what she must have been through. Fighting the fight, all alone and with only the Doctor's brief instructions to go by. It must have been awful. She must have been close to giving up more than once. She must have seen death and destruction and worse. What was his being stranded on the game station in comparison to the year she'd had? And there she was, smiling at him as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe it was.

Martha started to move around the console panel slowly, her hand gliding over the metal, lightly touching the levers and switches, cables and monitors with her fingertips while passing. She hummed to herself.

Jack was sure that she would not answer to his incredulous remark. But again she managed to baffle him.

“I really mean it,” she said. “Thank you, Jack. I knew you would be there whatever was going to happen. And it made me feel a little lighter to know that he would not _feel_ left alone up here, you know?” She turned to face him. “Because he can feel you when you are close. He'd always know that there was someone left to fight for. And every time I told his story, I knew that I had something to fight for, too.” She leaned against the railing. “So much to fight for, Jack.” She laughed and it sounded happy, but a little sad all at the same time. “And now nothing of it happened.” She nodded to herself. “But obviously that's a good thing. It's just strange. We remember it and nobody else does.”

“You must have met many people and seen so much suffering.” When he'd said it, he wished he could take it back. He didn't want her smile to cloud up with sadness.

Instead she looked at him with pride. “Yes, suffering and hardship, slaughter and injustice. But I've seen so many incredible things, too, Jack. Incredible things, incredible people. Survivors, fighting, helping each other. Many normal people rising to the challenge. I didn't only see the horror and despair. I've seen courage and true selflessness. It's amazing what humans are capable of.” She got a faraway happy look. “I've met so many special people on my journey.”

Her eyes gave him the final clue. “You met someone more special than the others?”

Martha smiled broadly at him and shrugged with a sigh. “You can find love in the strangest places, right?”

Jack pondered that for a moment. “Yeah. You can find love anywhere.”

“He was killed. But now he is alive.” She laughed. “I checked just now. He doesn't remember me, of course. But he's alive again. And that's all that matters.”

And suddenly Jack felt happy, too. His team would never know of this year, either. The Master had a lot of fun telling him all about sending them on a wild goose chase and then killing them off. He never knew the truth, never knew what had really happened, what the Master only made up to hurt him. Now the truth didn't even matter any more. They were in Cardiff, alive and well. “That's great!” he blurted out “Maybe not the remembering part... Not in your case.”

She shrugged again sitting up on the console dangling her feat. “Oh I don't know. I have the advantage now, knowing something about him. He'll never know what hit him.”

They chuckled together, like silly teenagers, gossiping. When he sobered up he asked: “What about the Doctor?”

Martha looked at Jack sadly. “I love him. But I'm not what he needs and he probably is not what I need either. It hurts to admit it.” She twisted her mouth in a fleeting moment of sheer unhappiness. “I haven't made my mind up, yet. But maybe it's time to make a decision for myself, you know? Be my own woman.”

Jack understood the sentiment all too well. He did not wish for the Doctor to be alone after the recent break down. But he couldn't be the one staying. He was needed elsewhere.

“Maybe you are what he needs,” Martha added. “I think, I don't know the half of it, but I'm not blind to the way you dance around each other. You love him.”

It was Jack's turn to shrug. He made his way over to her and embraced her. Her arms found their way around his middle and they held each other loosely, comforting. “That hasn't exactly been a secret from the beginning,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “But sometimes it's not enough and I'm not sure I'll ever be what _he_ needs. Who knows if anyone is? But what I know is that he needs company, Martha. He _needs_ you. Never doubt that. And he loves you. In his own way. Not the romantic love we are looking for, but...”

When she met his eyes there was a fond look in her eyes. Jack supposed that the fondness was both for him and the Doctor. “The thing is, I don't doubt it. Not any more. He trusted me. You see?”

“And that isn't enough now?”

He knew the answer before he heard her speak again: “Is it enough for you?”

There was a long pause. He knew his own answer, too. “It could be.”

“But it isn't,” she concluded for him, “not now.”

She smiled, sad and understanding, but in many ways her gaze had already turned to the future, her own future, a bright future. “We all need time to heal. We all need to go our own way to achieve that, I guess. Maybe I'll stay for a while, maybe I won't.” Jack had a feeling that in truth she already knew what she was going to do. “But _you_ love him. You have loved him for years. At least don't leave before you've really talked to him. After all you can find love in the strangest places.”

He chuckled and after a moment she started laughing, too. Talking to the Doctor was both easy and impossible and they both knew it too well.

* * *

Hours later Jack had the opportunity to check the Torchwood database and do a short check-up. Not even Tosh would know he had logged on. The team was all right. He was relieved, although he wasn't surprised. After all the Master never had an opportunity to wreck havoc on them. Not when none of it happened.

He checked up on Alice and Stephen and found them exactly where he'd left them.

Nothing had changed. Only some weeks had passed for his family and friends. He shouldn't feel as if he'd abandoned them. He did feel like it anyway.

The Master had made sure that his prisoner had known all about his friends suffering. Now they never would have to go through any of it. It should make him feel lighter.

It didn't.

The memory was there for him, and it only strengthened the need to protect them.

He logged off and watched the Doctor talking to one of the UNIT soldiers. He looked good. No traces of the ordeal he'd gone through or the grief he had openly shown only yesterday left in the way he was holding himself.

When he looked up, he looked right at Jack, meeting his eyes. There was no smile, just a very focused, intense stare. He nodded to him and then followed the soldier.

* * *

Martha was the one who came to find him and sent him back to the Tardis to get some rest. The Jones family had returned home, waiting for Martha to follow soon. They were all feeling uncomfortable on the UNIT aircraft carrier that had been their prison, but someone had to make sure that the mess the Master left behind was resolved completely.

He couldn’t argue with Martha when she sternly sent him to bed like a child, because he too knew he still needed rest. Mentally more than physically maybe. But even with his time anchored immortality his arms hurt from being tied up for so long. He was already on the mend, but he was feeling tired again, although usually he didn’t need to sleep so often. It might be a psychological reaction, he analysed and then tried to ignore it. He had to move on just like everybody else.

Again he found himself heading for his own room inside the Tardis before he had time to question his choice of directions. His own room. The thought made him feel warm and at home.

The bed was as welcoming as it had been the night before and Jack barely took time to undress and crawl beneath the covers. Martha had been so right. He really was tired and should take the time to rest. These precious hours could never last. Better to take the rest while he could get it.

He was dosing off as soon as the lights were out.

When he woke up again in the middle of the night the Doctor was lying beside him. Without a coat this time, but still wearing his pinstriped suit. He was curled up on his side, watching Jack. 

“Hey,” Jack whispered. “Can’t find your own room?” He threw him a tired smile, imagining the Tardis moving rooms around again.

Although the brown hair was a mess, the Doctor looked surprisingly awake and healthy, not tired or exhausted any more. He just shrugged and turned to lie on his back.. “I feel comfortable here,” he finally answered. 

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, me, too. But I’ve been chained up for month. A bed is luxury.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow and seemed to contemplate this. “You’re better now,” he concluded. His expression was unreadable. 

Which in a way was a relief, because this meant he was back to being himself. Jack nodded and didn’t ask any more questions although he wasn’t sure, what the Doctor was trying to say. “You too?” he decided to ask back, but received only another half-shrug in return. “How are you feeling?” he tried again.

“I feel fine, Jack. Go back to sleep.”

Jack rolled onto his side, curling one arm under his head, watching the Doctor and contemplating his words. _Talk to him_ , a voice that sounded annoyingly like Martha told him from the inside of his own mind. He didn’t know where to start. “I was worried about you,” he finally said.

The Doctor looked at him with a furrowed brow. “Why? Isn’t it natural to grief?” Jack had a feeling that he’d had to justify himself for his emotional break down over the Master’s death to someone already, probably more than one someone. 

“Not, because of that,” he said and tried to find a more comfortable position, shifting around a bit. “That whole year.”

There was a sudden flash of understanding in the Doctor’s dark eyes, but it was hidden quickly behind the same unreadable expression he'd been wearing for days now. “Ah, yeah, well. You know me...”

He chuckled. “Which is exactly why I was worried.” He didn’t elaborate on his real thoughts, all the fear, the paranoid thoughts that had come with isolation, the rotten ideas the Master had expertly planted in his mind to break him. 

“It’s over,” the Doctor said in a soft, reassuring tone and sat up in one fluid motion. Then he peered over his shoulder at him, looking indecisive. He looked away and cleared his throat. “I’ll take a look at the energy levels of the trachoid chrystals,” he muttered and left in a hurry. 

Which was a very Doctor thing to do and put Jack's mind at ease.

He shifted around a bit more, buried his face in the cushion to get some more sleep. He fell asleep wondering since when trachoid chrystals had energy levels that needed checking.

* * *

In the following days everyone had things to take care of.

Martha took care of her family. Jack knew she was also tracking people she had met during the lost year.

The Doctor took care of the technological side of things. They dismantled some of the Master’s safeguards on the Valiant to turn it back into UNIT's flagship. 

Jack got involved in the political side of the mess. He played his card as official Torchwood 3 leader against the forces of the military and MI5, to help settle this incident down in an acceptable and hopefully peaceful manner. After all two important countries had lost their heads of government. They needed a convincing cover story for the media. They needed a stable new government. And they needed it fast.

He was glad when everything was wrapped up and under control and he could leave the rest to national security and UNIT.

The Doctor was happily doing the last repairs on his beloved ship. When Jack stepped back into the Tardis, he found him busy calibrating a monitor with the sonic screwdriver.

“See,” the Doctor called out to him, “She's as good as new!” The Tardis hummed and somewhere to the right of her pilot sparks flew up, contradicting his statement. “Or as good as new. Just as you were when I _found_ you,” the Doctor mumbled at the wayward time machine.

Jack smiled. He didn't know enough about Tardis models and Time Lords in general to understand how exactly their relationship was supposed to work usually. But he was happy to see this particular Time Lord berating this particular Tardis in a friendly fashion again.

“Don't listen to him girl, he's only trying to wind you up,” Jack told the ship. “He's glad you're back to normal.”

“Don't listen to him, he's only trying to stay in your good graces,” the Doctor retaliated with a sour face.

Jack beamed at him. “Yes, I am.”

The Doctor who was already busy with the cables that were the new problem looked at him for a very short moment. “Martha is back,” he explained in a conversational tone. “The Tardis is back in working order, too. I'll say we give her a moment to refuel at the Rift and then we can be off.”

“That is good. Then I'm home without a detour,” he said awkwardly, trying to gauge the Doctors reaction.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. “Torchwood, hmm?” It wasn't said as disapprovingly as it had been in the beginning. “Protecting Earth?” The Doctor got a far away look. He was thinking of something else now. Probably his experiences with Torchwood One, but he wasn't elaborating. “Seems the planet still needs it,” he told him instead, surprising Jack. It was the first positive reference the Doctor had ever made to the idea of Torchwood.

Everything would go back to normal now. He wouldn't be hurting the Doctor with his presence and now that he had the most important of his answers about his twisted existence, he could move on, make the best of it. And it would be so much easier this time, without all the doubts and insecurities.

“You could stay if you wanted to. An immortal living between short lived humans. Time agent staying in one place...” the Doctors voice trailed off and he cleared his throat.

Jack smiled. “Not a time agent anymore. You don't have to try so hard, Doc.” He searched for the right words and settled for: “You may be able to get used to it. But that's not what I want. I don't want to be something unwanted you learn to live with. Let's just stay friends and part ways, eh?”

The Doctor didn't look up. He was sorting through the cables, checking them with the screwdriver. His attention was focused on his work. But the silence wasn't as easy as Jack would have hoped. Then the Doctor cleared his throat again, never taking his eyes away from his sonic, and said: “If that's what you want.”

“It's best for both of us, right?”

A shrug and silence was his only answer. Maybe it was best to go look for Martha, Jack thought. The Doctor seemed to be in a strange mood now. He stepped around the console, when the Doctor finally looked up. “If you want to go home that is completely understandable. But if you do it, do it for yourself. Not on my account.”

He turned around to stare. But the Doctor had focused back on his repairs and he didn't know what he was supposed to say to that. So he followed his initial plan and set out to find Martha, but he was stopped by the Doctor's voice yet again.

“I'm keeping your room. You still have the key.”

 _That_ completely stopped him in his tracks. “You don't _have_ to make it up to me, Doctor. For leaving me behind, for not explaining, I mean. It wasn't the nicest thing you have ever done, but I'm not angry any more. I've got my answers and I think I can finally move on.” He shrugged and smiled. “You don't have to get used to my presence.”

The Doctor nodded, his face an indifferent mask. Jack finally left, hoping to find Martha quickly.  
He had made his decision already and he was not going to change his mind about this, however tempting the offer. 

No more travelling through space and time with a Time Lord. This time he would go where he was needed.

* * *

He finally left with a parting shot that he could still hear Martha and the Doctor discuss between themselves when he was meters away.

It made him smile. Seriously. That they'd believe _that_ of all things. The face of Boe, really? Hearing the Doctor's exaggerated disbelief led him to suspect that the Doctor didn't really believe it, but he was happily playing along. They were parting on a lighter note at least and the open and repeated invitation of the Doctor was still standing. 

Jack took care not to dissolve into laughter at his little joke where they could still see him. There was no need for hard feelings this time. That made a welcome contrast to their last parting. This time he would get over it. But when he was out of ear shot he missed them already and then he went down to find his team and instead found an empty Hub.

The absence of the people he had missed so much made him nervous and he immediately set out to search for his wayward team. The Tardis was gone by the time he got back up; no trace of a blue police box, a valiant Martha Jones or an impossible, but oh so right Doctor. 

Nothing went as planned.

But when he found his team, all of them were very much all right. And he was back were he belonged.

His first days back with the team weren't easy. John Hart was only part of this. They didn't trust him not to run off again and he had to admit he felt a bit sidelined by the new dynamics that had sprung up in the few weeks they had been left alone to fend for themselves. It was not their fault, of course. After all he'd left without a word. And first thing back his unwanted past as conman caught up with him and smacked all of them right in the face. It was clear there was a lot nobody knew about him and it made them uncomfortable.

The secrets built up a strange, invisible wall of distrust between them and he had to overcome that first, before things could truly go back to normal.

It didn't matter though, when he watched Ianto make coffee, Gwen smile at Tosh and Owen complain about the work conditions in secret alien hunting organizations.

He was home.

* * *

A few days later things were slowly going back to normal, but Jack still felt like a phantom. It seemed his mind was stuck in that one year that never happened.

Ianto was the one who picked up on some of his secret dealings with UNIT that were still all about the Valiant business. He didn't ask right out, but Jack knew he was suspicious when he was the one to pass him a sealed communiqué from MI5 and asked innocently: “This about the Prime Minister?”

“What makes you think that?” Jack asked back in a matching tone of innocence. He knew his team. They might have picked something up in the UNIT databases and now were on to him. Snooping was their forte after all.

Keeping another secret didn't help him feel better about any of it. But telling his friends wouldn't make it better. For them nothing happened and Jack thought it was better that way. They didn’t need that knowledge. For them it wouldn't change anything.

One week after coming back everything seemed to be back to normal or as normal as it got with Torchwood at least. Only he still felt displaced.

* * *

He dreamed of days of torture. He dreamed of painful death. Gray, only six years old, was smiling at him, then the memory was dissolving in blood, John Hart was standing right beside the Master, both of them laughing. Blood on the floor. He wanted to scream, to rage at them. There was no air to breathe. He was dying again. He tried to hold on, tried to force air into his lungs and woke up sweating and screaming.

He wasn't alone. Someone was there with him. He started to panic. A body was pressed to his and he was sure he went to bed alone. He flailed and... stopped. 

“Can't sleep?”

He turned around to stare at the the Doctor who was the dream person asking the question. Jack's heart leaped in his chest, but he tried to quench the warm, confused feeling. He must still be dreaming. There was no other explanation.

“ _I_ can’t,” the dream Doctor said solemnly. “Sleep, I mean.” His voice was a little raspy and strange and Jack’s mind finally caught up.

“Doctor! You’re really here!”

“Yes. I am,” he said tersely. The Doctor looked tired and tense. He was lying curled up on his side, barley managing not to fall out of Jack’s narrow bed, when Jack shifted into a position that allowed him to properly look at his unexpected guest.

“Why?” he asked, not bothering to hide his surprise.

“I've had a disastrous Christmas. How have you been?”

“Christmas?” Jack asked incredulously. “You jumped ahead to Christmas? Or wait...” The Doctor had a time machine after all. No telling which year he had visited.

“I didn't technically jump ahead. I brought Martha to her family and then I had a little mishap with the Tardis shields and then more or less crashed a Christmas party that... well... crashed.” At Jack's incredulous look he added: “Don't ask. Please, just don't. I thought a Christmas party would be the right thing to help me set my thoughts straight, relax. And next thing I know it's the sinking of the Titanic in space. So don't ask. Have you ever seen _The Poseidon Adventure_? Then you know all about it... So don’t ask.”

He wanted to point out that there was no need to ask anything else about it, because he had just heard all that was important. “Okay, I won't.” He swallowed and tried to get his thoughts in order. “Can I ask why you’re lying in my bed, though?” _Pressed up to me._

The Doctor sighed and rolled his eyes as if to tell Jack off for asking obvious questions. “I told you. I couldn't sleep.”

“I see.” He tried to wrap his head around that information and then couldn’t help himself and added: “No I don’t. What?!”

The Doctor was fixing him with a stare. “I can leave if you want me to.”

Jack closed his mouth with a snap. Then he furrowed his brow. What was he supposed to say to that? “I’m surprised,” he tried to explain, exasperated. “Can you really blame me?”

“Are you telling me, you’re not used to having company in bed?” The Doctor chuckled at his own joke, but it wasn't a happy sound. It sounded chocked and tired.

“Hey!” Jack tried to hide both his confusion and worry at the Doctor’s state behind their usual banter. “I have you know that the people ending up in my bed are normally there by invitation.”

“So, I’m not invited?” He must be imagining the tone of hurt in the Doctor’s voice. Because he wasn’t dreaming, right?

“Frankly, do you think if all it would have taken was an invitation, I wouldn’t have tried that before?” He looked at the Doctor’s unreadable expression and creased his brow in thought. “I _did_ try that one before, didn't I? Don't tell me I forgot to try the one thing that would have worked.”

He got a nod in answer - and a yawn. His unexpected guest was as exhausted as he'd seemed at first glance.

“ _Of course._ ” Jack concluded. “You’re _really_ here to sleep.” It just now occurred to him that the man had been telling the truth. “And the invitations I usually give out don’t include a hell of a lot of actual sleeping. Now I finally know what I did wrong. It’s the sleeping part.” He looked at his friend again and could see his eyelids dropping. The Doctor was falling asleep on him. Right here. In his bed. In the middle of banter.

“I guess, I feel a little tired,” he said softly. Jack knew it wasn't the whole truth and had to wonder what exactly had happened to put a strain on him again. A space ship crashing... Someone must have been hurt. 

But he nodded and softly admitted: “I feel tired, too.” And he did. He felt tired of being set apart from the people around him. Immortal Jack, 51st century guy on 21st century earth. Was it the same for the Doctor? Travelling with aliens that didn’t even begin to understand him?

He yawned. He hadn’t been getting an undisturbed night of sleep since coming back.

“Are we getting old?” the Doctor asked with a raised eyebrow.

That made Jack laugh. “I don't think that's the problem. We are just tired. Happens to the best of them.”

His friend nodded at that, but didn't look at all convinced.

“I have a hard time sleeping,” Jack admitted. “Don’t need so much sleep, though.”

The Doctor turned to peer at him through half-closed eyes. Then he nodded, more to himself than in answer. “I haven't tried to sleep since we had that quick nap...” he let the sentence trail of again. The brown eyes of the Doctor settle on his lips and flit away quickly in a self-conscious way. It seemed surreal to be lying here, hearing him admit this. Jack didn’t know how to react. Not been _trying_ to sleep... A strange thought.

It was the Doctor who spoke up again first: “Haven't you settled in then?” The question was tentative.

“I thought this was where I needed to be. But the kids seem to have grown up while I was scavenging around the universe with you. It'll be some time before everything goes back to normal... After all I ran out on them.” He didn’t want to think back to the whole mess with another 51st century captain that hadn’t exactly made his return an easy ride. It wasn't a story he wanted to share with the Doctor of all people.

“Didn't _I_ run out on you in the first place?” the Doctor asked, sounding sleepy and a little confused. It was utterly adorable.

“Don’t you remember? You said you were running away on purpose. _I_ hadn’t planned this. Not like this at least.”

“Wasn’t focused...” the Doctor mumbled. “Didn’t know what we were doing... Barcelona. Wanted to get Rose to Barcelona.” His eyes dropped closed and Jack had to keep from laughing at the picture he made. He wasn’t used to the Doctor being unguarded like this.

He fell asleep watching him.

* * *

One again he woke up alone. It could all have been a dream, but the way he was pressed up to the wall told him the Doctor had really been there, taking up most of the narrow bed.

He dragged himself out of said bed with some effort and wasn’t surprised when he couldn’t find any sign of the man still being around. Whatever yesterday had been, it had been a brief interlude.

Toshiko was typing away at one of her beloved computers already and looked undisturbed.

“Really? Do you people never go home?” Jack asked her with a smile that took the edge off his criticism.

She looked up at him for a short moment and smiled back distractedly. “You’re the one that lives here.” Then she motioned at her computer. “When did you have time to enhance our security system and recalibrate the rift manipulator?”

In his confusion he nearly said something like: “I did what?” but managed to keep the thought to himself. So the Doctor had been tinkering with their systems? Great. Hopefully he hadn’t left any surprises. He shrugged and looked over Toshiko's shoulder at the data stream she was reviewing.

She turned to look at him, this time really looking right at him, studying his face. “Is that why you still look so tired? You spent your nights doing all this? You could have shown me how to.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Tosh, really, my nights are filled with...”

“Thank you!” Owen called from behind them, having just entered the Hub. “I don’t need to hear it, Jack, really. Not before breakfast. Not before coffee.” He scrunched up his nose in displeasure. “Actually, I don't need to hear it at all.”

He smiled at Owen sweetly. “It’s a good story, though.”

“I’m sure.”

They were still dancing around the issues they had with all that had happened. After all Owen shot him, would have even killed him if he hadn’t been the one human on planet Earth who could walk away from a gunshot like this. He was still a little angry about that - and he knew Owen had a hard time accepting him back as leader without a real explanation for his running out on them. Owen didn't trust easily and Jack hadn't done much to inspire confidence lately. None of them had asked any _real_ questions about his immortality, yet. Jack knew that it made people uncomfortable, even scared, to have an immortal around. He'd seen the signs before.

But the banter was slowly coming back. That must be a good sign.

“Uh oh. There is an alarm going off.” Tosh said and pointed at a map that popped up in another window.

“What is it?” Jack looked over her shoulder to asses the emergency. It was not the rift, but could be their own home made Weevil alarm.

Tosh shrugged, unsure. She didn’t know either.

“Owen!” Jack called. “There's something we should investigate.

Just another normal day in Cardiff then. In a few days everything would be as it always had been.

* * *

“So what you're saying is that these people just vanished into thin air?” Gwen asked, her voice rising slightly, with exasperation or disbelief, he couldn't tell.

“Nobody just vanishes into thin air,” Jack said, matter-of-factly. “If it seems like they did, there has to be an explanation.”

“What kind of explanation?” Ianto asked. He looked serious and like he was trying to think of something. He was always good with remembering the cases they already worked on that could turn out to be relevant. Jack was glad he was around, because it was always useful to have someone serve the role of archivist and researcher, especially if the rest of the team was full of specialists and hands-on-type of people like him and Gwen.

“Make up your mind,” he said. “We face unexplained mysteries all the time – and we're looking into the explanations. It's just a matter of finding one.”

“Easier said than done.” Tosh was staring at all her open files. “The only connection between all the vanished persons is that they were all in this area of town when they were last seen. That's also where the strange readings I got spiked.”

“Okay,” Jack said and nodded. “That area of town it is then. Lets go people.”

“That's it?” Owen asked. “We're just going there to look around? What if we vanish, too?”

“Afraid?” Ianto asked him.

Owen rolled his eyes. 

“He has a point,” Gwen said to Jack. “We shouldn't all go.”

“Well, obviously I stay here and analyse these reading,” Tosh said. “You send me over whatever you can get.”

Jack nodded at Gwen. The team had really learned to work without his supervision, no longer waiting for his cues. They dynamics had changed a little, but in a way they were working together better than ever. It was something to be proud of.

“All right, Gwen and Ianto come with me,” Jack said. “We'll keep in constant contact. Owen, you're on stand-by in case we need the back-up. Lets go.”

They took the SUV, loaded with all kinds of equipment. Ianto was carrying one of the scanners he and Tosh modified for occasions like this.

“What could it be, Jack?” Gwen asked from beside him, watching the world outside with a pinched expression. “Something from the rift?”

He shrugged. There were so many ways people could just vanish, he would rather not attempt to list them all. Gwen and Ianto had seen some amazing stuff already, some horrors sprung right from their nightmares. But Jack had seen some of the things the Universe had in store that had never even reached earth yet. And there was so much lethal stuff out there, but also so much beauty. Sometimes he missed it.

“I don't know, Gwen,” he said. “At this point it could still be pretty much anything, from people just deciding to leave on their own, to alien body snatchers, to someone playing Jack the Ripper. The only thing telling me that this is where our special brand of expertise is needed are the readings Tosh got us this morning.” 

“Where are we going to start?” she asked. “Shouldn't we talk to the families? Do some investigation first?”

Ianto looked at the scanner in his hand, “I think we have another spike. How about we start there?”

Jack met his eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Sounds like a plan.”

“No. No it really doesn't. Just sounds like what we usually do, though,” Ianto said, sounding not at all concerned.

It never boded well to find an abandoned building at the center of your mystery. Jack was sure there was a handbook for these things. 

“Abandoned office building,” Gwen said, pronouncing it as if she was narrating a horror movie. “I already hate this.”

They broke down the door without much trouble, walked into the darkened hallway. Ianto's scanner was the only thing shedding some light into the darkness, until both Jack and Gwen switched on the torch lights they'd brought. 

“The readings are all over the place,” Ianto announced. “Here one second, gone the next.”

“Is this place really abandoned? It looks like people were working here just minutes ago.” Gwen walked cautiously to the next room and looked inside. “Honestly. It looks like someone will just walk in an pick up work.”

“The computers weren't switched out either,” Ianto said with a frown. 

Jack's head snapped up when something moved at the end of the corridor. But there was nothing there. He narrowed his eyes, stared, looked at the Vortex Manipulator.

Suddenly Gwen yelped, jumped back. Ianto startled, nearly bumped into Jack. “What was that?” he asked. “Felt cold.”

“You felt it too?” Gwen sounded relieved. 

“Felt what?” Jack looked from one to the other, trying to determine what had startled them. The room was still empty and nothing had moved as far as he could tell.

“I don't know,” Ianto tried. “It was like the air beside me had suddenly gone icy cold.”

Gwen frowned. “Something touched me. Something very cold.”

“Touched you?” Jack asked and looked around, trying to determine what could have caused this, if there was anything _unseen_ around. He stepped around the desk to where the two of them had been standing, not feeling anything unusual, nothing out of the ordinary. So he walked to the other side of the room to get some more readings, raised his arm to look at the Vortext Manipulator when out of the corner of his eye he suddenly saw something blue standing outside.

“Like fingers of ice,” Gwen said.

He took a deep breath, staring at the Tardis as if he was looking at an apparition. “That sounds very old fashioned ghost story to me.”

Ianto and Gwen exchanged a look. Of course, this was Torchwood and ghost stories had turned out to be true before.

He walked back to them suddenly determined. The movement down the hall – he'd swear it had been a brown coat lapel vanishing before he got a good look at it.

“Be careful. We'll take a look around, take as many readings as you can get. We have no idea what this could be.”

“Jack,” Gwen said. “I think something is trying to pull at my hand.” She looked scared suddenly. Gwen was one of the braves people he knew, but he had to admit that things that he couldn't even see were among those that scared him the most. 

“Lets move,” he said, then stopped. “Where is it pulling you?”

She pointed down the corridor and Jack frowned. The Doctor was there. Hopefully he already had things under control. But if he hadn't... “We should check down there, then?”

“What if it's leading us on?” Ianto asked. “Aren't ghosts supposed to do that?”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe one of us should wait outside and keep in touch with the HUB and the rest of us. Just in case.”

* * *

He could hear Gwen's steps down the hallway. He was holding his gun up as if he expected something to set upon him any minute, but nothing happened. There was no movement and no immediate danger he could see. When he turned the corner he could hear soft sounds.

Someone was talking.

Fast.

He moved cautiously forward, trying to determine where the voices were coming from. He found a staircase, followed it down. The voices grew louder.

“Jack?” Gwen was calling from above.

She looked over the banister down at him and he gestured for her to stay were she was and remain quiet. It was enough to make her grow completely still and listen. Picking up the faint noises she nodded. 

When he rounded the corner into the dark corridors down here, he felt only a little nervous. He knew who was talking, would know that voice anywhere. A soft yellow-green light was shining from one of the rooms in the darkness.

“I know you don't mean any harm,” the Doctor was saying. “You're just lonely. But humans, humans weren't meant to live on your plane. You have to give them back.”

Jack entered the door and the Doctor just gave him a warning glance, glaring at the gun.

“Everything under control?” he asked, before he really took in the scene before him. A bulb of light, an unearthly color, was hovering in the air right in front of the Doctor. He stepped closer cautiously.

“Don't interrupt now,” the Doctor huffed, but turned back to the light as Jack lowered his weapon.

“You need to let the people go,” he said again. “They're humans. They have no idea what's happening to them. They're afraid.”

The light, it seemed, reached out. For the first time Jack felt some of the icy cold Ianto and Gwen had been describing. He looked sideways at the Doctor, who didn't even flinch.

“Let them go. I know it' really... _painful_ to be all alone, without anyone like you. But these humans have their own lives. A state of being.” He sighed.

The light hovered, the edges changes a little before their eyes and the color changed a little. Jack had to look away. Gwen stood frozen in the doorway, staring. He gun was pointed down, her attention focused on the strange thing in the middle of the room. Then she shook herself and looked at him.

Their eyes met and he shook his head, trying to tell her to stay where she was.

“I'll get you home,” the Doctor promised. “Loneliness must have driven you crazy, poor thing. But it hasn't to be like this. I'll get you home.”

The apparition made a very soft humming sound, like a soft frizzle. 

“Is it safe?” Jack asked.

“Quite safe, Jack,” the Doctor said, but didn't sound reassuring, just serious. 

Jack had a feeling he was talking about the situations being safe for him and Gwen, maybe Cardiff, the planet. But Jack had been asking about the Doctor taking what he was now pretty sure was an alien life form Jack knew nothing about to wherever it had come from.

The Doctor smiled and held out his hand and Jack watched in fascination as strands of light, suddenly turning a soft hue of green, reached out to encompass it. 

“What are you doing?”

“Don't worry, Jack,” he said. “This is between me and Ke'rrekk'eth here. I'll be gone in a minute, but people will start re-appearing.”

“What?”

“I'll be gone in a minute. But people will be back.”

“You're not seriously going with _that_?”

“Don't worry. I have this.”

“I don't doubt that...” But he did.

“I'll come by later. If I don't you have a Tardis key,” he said with a dismissive shrug and he and the dynamic ball of light were gone the next minute.

“What the fuck?” Jack yelled and looked around.

Gwen stared at him, wide-eyed and open mouthed. “Yes, seriously, Jack? What the hell is going on here? And who was that?”

He did not answer, just listened. Sound was returning to the place. People were talking upstairs. Life had returned to the abandoned offices.

* * *

Sorting though the mess wasn't an easy task. Not when you were faced with a crowd of upset people telling you they'd just experienced something like a collective out of body experience. At that point it was just as well, that nobody seemed to realize that their bodies had actually been gone for a while there too.

Ianto was the one handling the clean up with Gwen. They were posing as health and safety officials investigating, effectively handing out Retcon and trying to contain a panic.

“What was it?” Ianto asked Gwen.

“I don't know. But there was someone at the scene. A man. I think Jack is keeping secrets from us again.” Gwen told him.

“When is he not, huh?” Ianto answered, shrugging.

Jack pretended he hadn't heard a thing, occasionally stepping to the window to look at the Tardis. When after an hour or so the Tardis had suddenly vanished, he suddenly felt much better. The Doctor obviously had found his way back to the ship.

* * *

“Bye, Jack. I'm going home now.” Gwen was standing in the door, watching him go through stacks of papers. She raised an eyebrow at him, when he shifted another stack to the side for later. “Don't work all night. You need rest, too,” she admonished.

“Ahh,” he shot back, “I barely need sleep anyway.” He laughed at her raised eyebrow.

“Don't think you can fool us all the time, Jack,” she said softly. “You're tired. You've been tired since you came back from wherever the hell you ran off to. You should rest and...” She let the sentence trail off, maybe unsure of what she could say to make him listen.

“And what?” He reached for his untouched cup and took a sip, only just avoided scrunching up his face at the bad taste of cold coffee.

“Don't know,” she said. “Get over whatever happened. Come back to us. Put things behind you for good.”

He laughed, although he wanted to look at her suspiciously. Really, he shouldn't be surprised. He had wanted her on the team precisely because she was observant and perceptive in ways the rest of the team often weren't. But sometimes he wished for her to be less so, especially when it came to himself.

“Good night, Jack,” she added like an afterthought, when it became clear that he wouldn't say anything.

“Night, Gwen,” he called after her with a cheerfulness he didn't feel. He knew everyone else had already left and he felt relieved to be left alone at last. He should be feeling more conflicted about that. After all he had always loved company and he loved these people, his little awkward family.

She didn't look back at him, but waved over her shoulder. When he looked back at his desk, he just didn't feel like writing reports. He didn't really feel like anything at the moment. And he had a feeling that he wouldn't have an easy time falling asleep either. Not after the stunt the Doctor had pulled in front of his eyes and without any real explanation.

Gwen should be far enough away by now. It was time to take a walk.

So he left the Hub, enjoying the cool night air. He didn't get far.

A blue box was standing right on top of the rift, a serious looking Doctor leaning against it, hands in his coat pockets.

“So, you weren't eaten by the reality warping alien?”

“Other dimensional alien,” the Doctor corrected. “No. But you knew that already.”

“Of course,” he said and walked up to them to lean against the Tardis beside the Doctor, taking a deep breath.

“So, how did that go?”

“Had to tinker a bit. Got it home.”

The answer was uttered so tersely that Jack didn't know what to say. He looked at the Doctor sideways and scowled at him until he turned to look at him.

“Hard to explain,” the Doctor conceded. 

“Try me. I have it on good authority that I'm pretty much as impossible as you can get, so I'm sure whatever you have to say, it won't seem impossible to me.”

The Doctor rolled eyes, then let his head fall back against the blue box and stared at the night sky. Then he said: “Not much to say. Created a dimensional shift so it could slip through. Happy family was waiting for it on the other side. Teenagers, you know? Drive their family nuts all day, until suddenly they get themselves into trouble and scare their family to death. Did it on the moon to be safe.”

“That doesn't sound like nothing,” Jack said and looked over the Plass, empty for the moment; the Doctor, the Tardis and him the only signs of life in the middle of a city. _Like we're always coming back to be stranded on a little island of our own_ , he thought. _Like the life here and the life with the Doctor just won't fit into the same reality._

But today both lives had met, if only for the briefest moment.

And it had only served to make him feel like he was never really at home anywhere.

Gwen was right, it was time for him to shake this feeling of displacement and move beyond the things that kept him from truly feeling at home.

“So, what was this all about? Coming to me to sleep? You didn't actually sleep, did you? You had the time to tinker with all our systems.”

“Nah, not all of them. Just the ones that were rubbish.”

“Don't let Tosh hear that. She's very proud of what she's done with it.”

“She can be. Considering what she has to work with, all her code is a thing of beauty. It just isn't prepared for the things you people don't know about yet.”

He nodded, constantly aware and uneasy about the fact that the future was upon them, before any of them were really ready for it.

“Can I ask one more question? How long ago was it for you? That you left here that time you said good-bye with Martha, I mean.” The Doctor looked a little uncomfortable at the question, then he furrowed his brow and stared at Jack, as if he was unsure as to what the answer to that question could be. He seemed to seriously think about it for a moment. “For me it was one week ago,” Jack added, to make sure the Doctor knew the time frame they were talking about.

“Two days,” the Doctor finally answered, moving his head from side to side and looking into the distance as if he was calculating, fixing his eyes on a place where only years ago Rose had been joking with Mickey. Jack remembered that fondly, although for him it had been long ago. “Maybe two and a half. I didn't keep track, really.”

“Two days?” Jack exclaimed. “You can't even keep track of two days? Do you never take a rest?” 

“Nonsense,” he replied with an unconcerned shrug. “I'm quite all right. How have you been?”

Jack smiled at the way the Doctor tried to shift the conversation. He was obviously uncomfortable with the questions. “All right. Good. Really good,” he said, stretching the truth a little. The recurring nightmares were making it hard to get back to the life he’d left behind. But it was gradually getting better. “The food is better then it was all through that year. And I missed coffee. I can't tell you how much better life is with coffee.”

“I can imagine,” the Doctor said, scrunching up his nose. Jack knew he still preferred tea. “There was a little stir up in the rift...”

“Are you keeping tabs on me?” Jack interrupted in a deceptively light tone, but he wasn't sure if he should be worried or happy with the notion.

Obviously the Doctor was as surprised and unsure about it, because he froze up and snapped his mouth closed, staring at Jack in astonishment, all tiredness gone in a flash. “I wasn't...” The sentence trailed of unfinished and the Doctor turned away, staring up into the sky again with a furrowed brow. “I noticed something was wrong with the rift when I got here,” he explained. He seemed to contemplate it for a moment. “The Tardis likes it, but it makes me nervous. The rift, I mean.”

“It's an anomaly. Like me. Sure it makes you nervous,” Jack said lightly.

“Time rifts are not as unusual actually. There are many strange and wonderful things out there. But there is only one you,” the Doctor mumbled. He looked uneasy again and rubbed at his eyes with one hand as if he was trying to hide it.

Jack tried hard not to smile. “And only one you. You know I've seen a lot of the strange and wonderful things. But nothing made any lasting impact until you came along.”

“Only one me, too,” the Doctor said as if he hadn't heard the rest. He turned his face away a little, expression darkening. “Only one.” 

The tone wasn't giving away anything, but Jack was learning to read this man's body language again. At least he liked to think so. “Do you miss him?” he asked, and wasn't at all sure he really wanted to know the answer. But somehow it was easier to ask now, here in the fresh night air in front of his own messed up home, than it had been back on the Valiant.

The Doctor turned his gaze back to him and hesitated for a moment. Then he looked away again giving a painful sound that Jack supposed was meant to be a laugh. “I missed him long before we found him again. Long before he died, Jack. And he wasn't the only one lost in the war. People die in war. A lot of people died in this one.” He shrugged as if this was something not to be bothered about, because it was long past. 

Jack knew better than that. “I lost my father and brother in a war, when we were just kids,” he said.

A sniffing sound, and the Doctor shifted a little. “I'm sorry.”

“You lost a lot more than that.”

They remained silent, both looking up at the stars in the night sky. And for once the silence wasn't uncomfortable at all.

He wasn't sure what the Doctor was thinking about, but Jack looked up to the sky, feeling a bit nostalgic. He missed the freedom of space travel sometimes. He missed the universe and the stars and the endlessness of it all.

* * *

Later the Doctor invited him back into the Tardis and he didn’t protest. He felt the Doctor was still uncomfortable with the idea of Torchwood and he didn’t want to force the issue. After all he didn’t feel completely at home in the Hub himself at the moment. The Doctor yawned tiredly, which was a little worrying. Tiredness, bone deep tiredness that the man couldn't seem to shake, wasn't something Jack had ever associated with the energetic Time Lord.

Beside him the Doctor sniffed and rubbed at his ear, staring at the console as if distracted. “There... is something I’ve been thinking about.” The words were accompanied by a tired sigh, as if this was something he rather wouldn't be talking about.

“When did you have time to think? You just told me you threw yourself right into the next adventure.” Jack noted the way the Doctor flinched as his last words. Whatever had happened must have been another very unpleasant experience on top of the Master business. 

“I’ve had a whole year to think, Jack.” The Doctor sniffed again and looked at the Tardis, cocking his head to the side. “And actually your stupid Face of Boe line was what made me finally realise..”

“You don’t really bel...”

“You're not the Face of Boe, Jack. The old chap didn’t feel anything like you,” the Doctor said with conviction, before Jack could finish his sentence. “Met him on my first outing with Rose. And then again.” 

“Time Agents made a big sport of figuring out how old the Face really was. Don’t think anyone ever succeeded.” Good old days, he thought wryly. His latest brush with the past hadn’t been too long ago to make him truly miss a life full of conning and deceit... But then he was still lying about himself to everyone around him. The only one who had never questioned too deeply was the man standing beside him. “What’s the truth?”

“I have no idea,” the Doctor rubbed at his eye in a tired gesture. “Maybe I’ll find out one day. But I saw him dying... So... Never mind that. He told me a big secret apparently. He told me I wasn’t alone.” 

“He knew about the Master? Maybe it _is_ me! Ha!” He laughed at his own cheek and the Doctor mustered a smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. 

“I thought he was talking about the Master,” he muttered in answer. He turned around to lean with his back against the railing. “I was thinking about it for the whole year. What if he was talking about someone else? Someone _like_ me.” The words hung in the air between them and Jack wished he knew what this was all about. “He also said that he was the last of his kind, as I was the last of mine... If I'm supposed to be the last, how could he have been talking about the Master?”

Jack cocked his head to the side. “Timey- wimey timelines?” he questioned. 

“Time-wimey lives.” The Doctor nodded. “I think, it was about you.”

Jack nodded his head. “That makes sen... What!? What does this have to do with me?”

The Doctor gave a deep sigh and let his shoulders sag. “I’m not alone. You’ll always be there. Wherever, whenever.” He waves his hand around fast.

Jack's breath caught in his throat. He was too surprised to do much but stare.

“That is why I came back here. I want to apologize. I'm sick of being alone and I want to know that there's something impossibly eternal out there that I haven't pissed off enough to hate me forever.”

“There's nothing to apologize for, Doctor,” he said, his mouth suddenly dry.

“There never is with you, Jack. Even if there is. I was unfair. I left you behind. I never looked back until you found me again. And I never apologized.”

“It's different now that I know the reason, Doc, really.” It wasn't that easy really, he knew that. And he had a feeling that the Doctor could see right through his lie. The anger and pain of being left behind would never be forgotten and it wasn't making him feel better to know why the Doctor had run from him. But it was better to think that he did run away from physical pain, than to think that he had abandoned Jack without reason.

The Tradis was humming as if she wanted to be a part of the conversation. The light inside was always warm and welcoming, but now it changed to be a little brighter. “Can't leave you thinking now that you're an abomination.” The Doctor rubbed over his right eye with the back of his hand. It seemed normal enough, but Jack could tell he was nervous. This wasn't the kind of conversation you usually had with the Doctor. “You are not. You feel strange to me, because you are out of time. But it's not repelling or painful to look at you now. I wanted you to know this.”

“The Master said...”

“The Master said a lot of things to a lot of people,” the Doctor said with an angry nod. “I've had a whole year to get used to what you are. And it's not painful.”

This stunned Jack into silence. The Doctor stared up at the Tardis again, visibly wringing his hands. He should better start thinking of something to say soon, before his friend found the perfect way out and went running again.

“Are you saying you worked through it? Just like that?” He didn't even dare to hope the answer could be yes.

The Doctor let out an audible sigh and pinched the back of his nose with two fingers. “Ignore me,” he said, “I have no idea _what_ I'm trying to say exactly.” For a moment Jack was sure his eyes must be as wide as saucers and he was relieved that his friend was still not looking at him, because he couldn't school his features into a cocky smile just now. Then the Doctor went on talking: “Don't think I'm stupid, Jack. You are not all right, whatever you might tell yourself. Whatever happened on the Valiant, it affected you.” He flinched a little. “I know how often you died. But that wasn't the worst of it, was it?”

Jack shook his head. “No. The worst of it was thinking that all the things he said he was feeling when he looked at me must be the same for you.”

“They're not,” the Doctor said. 

“You don't even know what he said,” Jack protested, laughing, a little affronted, although he had to admit that he was feeling better already.

“It doesn't matter. He never cared for you. You are my friend, Jack, and it's like you said. Seeing what you are as wrong is more a prejudice than anything. It's fear of the unknown. It's cowardice! You don't hurt me. You just feel different. Impossibly, dangerously, _sickeningly_ different, but just different. That's all. I deal with different all the time, you're just the most exotic different of them all.” The Doctor nodded to himself.

“ _Exotic_?” Jack felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. “So I do not hurt you?”

“No. You grate on my nerves sometimes.” The Doctor got a pensive look. “But I seem to remember, you had developed that into an art form before you ever became a fact.”

“Why, thank you,” he said with a mocking salutation. “Glad to serve.”

They fell silent again, watched the Tardis, watched their surroundings. Relaxed. It was quiet and soothing and comfortable. Jack felt like he belonged somewhere again. Here with the Doctor. He hadn’t felt this comfortable in... a long time. A very long time. 

“Just to make sure... Did you just tell me that I'm special?” he asked, cheeky grin back in place.

He expected the Doctor to deflect or have a scathing come back to that. He didn't expect the Doctor to look sheepish.

His eyes widen when he realized that this is what they had been dancing around all this time. “And the sleeping?”

“I'm used to your presence now. It soothing. When you're not dying. Makes me feel safe.”

“Safe?”

The Doctor started moving again, brushing a hand through his hair. “I really want to go to the Kalmunion home world when the summer festival is in full swing. How about you? Or what about going to the Nextarian Ocean world. I like water. Although no. I've had quite enough of staying aboard ships...”

“Doctor?” he asked, trying to slow him down. It was ridiculous how long it had taken him to see what was right in front of his eyes. The Doctor had admitted that he didn't want to be alone. “Are you asking me to come along again?”

“Maybe for a trip or two? I can get you back here without anyone noticing.”

“You can?”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course, I can. I'm a Time Lord.”

“With a bad track record. Rose told me all about scaring mum by accidentally not bringing her back for a month.”

“We were a year late...”

“That's what I'm talking about.”

“Between you and me, we'll manage.”

He contemplated that for a moment. Butterflies were flying around in his stomach, a nervous, elating, scary feeling gripping his insides. Perhaps there was hope again and he just had forgotten what that felt like. “I've never been to the Kalmunion home world. Let's see how much trouble we can find there.”

* * *

Owen was staring at him as if he'd lost his mind. Gwen and Ianto were watching him covertly and exchanging bemused glances. Jack didn't care and didn't stop humming. He'd spend three mad days with the Doctor and they had parted with the promise to do it again soon. He had kissed him even, impulsive and greedy and unable to _not_ touch, before he'd let him run off. It wasn't like the Doctor to just play along with the romancing, so the fact that he hadn't exactly returned the kiss seemed less important than the fact that he hadn't even tried to stop him.

He'd not force the issue. 

But he would never stop flirting.

“Seems like you're better,” Gwen commented.

“Feels like it,” he said and went on humming to himself.

“What happened?”

“Ah, I'm not the kind of guy who'll kiss and tell,” he said.

“Since when?” asked Owen, before Tosh could poke him in the ribs hard.

He grinned at them, took a manila folder Ianto handed him and walked back upstairs to his office, sipping coffee from a cup.

“Do you think he had sex last night?” Owen asked.

“Looks more like he's in love,” Gwen said. “Not sure he knows the difference, though.”

And, oh, was that true. He was in love. Had never been not in love – with the Doctor, the universe, the stars and adventure. 

He knew that nothing would ever last forever, but for the moment it was enough to know that the Doctor would come an pick him up again in a while – that he had means of contacting him if he wanted to be picked up.

They were establishing... something that Jack couldn't really name yet.

Friendship. Companionship. Flirting and adventure.

Perhaps something else, but who could ever know for sure with the Doctor?

Jack knew he had found love again, along with his thirst for life and his self-confidence.

It was too bad that the Master was dead, because he'd really like to let him know that at the heart of it he'd helped him and the Doctor along, and that without the imprisonment on the Valiant they'd not know each other as they did now.

Maybe Martha had been right all along. Love could be waiting for you in the strangest places.

And he'd make sure to visit all the strangest places across time and space to make sure the Doctor would learn to see it his way this time around.

After all he had all the time in the world.


End file.
